Captain's Bride (18 page)

Jago Dodd stood at the helm. “Sea’s building pretty
fast now, missy. You’ll have to go below pretty soon.”

Glory nodded. A quarter of an hour passed before she
saw Nicholas again.

“I thought you’d gone below.”

“I was just going.”

“I’ll take the wheel, Jago. You see she gets there
safely.”

“Aye, Captain.” Jago took her arm.

Glory looked back over her shoulder, hoping Nicholas
would give her one of his reassuring smiles. He didn’t even look in
her direction.

“Is everything going to be all right?” she asked Jago
as they made their way down the narrow, listing passageway.

“Hard to say for sure. Storm come up too sudden. Real
unusual this time of year. Something ain’t right. Captain can feel
it; so can the crew. But he’s a good man, the captain. If anyone
can pull the
Black Spider
through, he can.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Not yet, but from the looks of it, it may well
be.”

“Thanks for being honest with me, Jago.”

“Never could see lying. But no sense to worry yet.
The
Spider's
a sturdy ship, and her captain’s a damned fine
seaman. Now you get yourself strapped down tight, and put in a good
word for us with the Man above.”

“I’ll do that, Jago.” Glory smiled. “Watch out for
Nicholas, will you?”

“He helped me, didn’t he? Jago Dodd don’t forget.
I’ll be watching ’im.”

“Thank you, Jago.” Glory went inside and battened
down whatever loose possessions she could find.

On deck Nicholas, Mac, and Joshua watched the
weather.

“Josh,” Nicholas instructed, “you go below and try to
get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.” He turned to Mac.
“Shorten the topsails to their last row of reef points.” That left
only the fore and aft triangles of canvas rigged between the masts
to help steady the ship, keep her from turning broadside to the
wind, and running before the storm.

“Aye, Cap’n.” With a worried frown, Mac stalked
away.

By supper it was blowing so hard and the ship was
rolling so heavily that the crew ate hardtack and drank cold
chowder from their mugs.

Nicholas stood beside Jago at the wheel, fighting the
blinding wind and watching the water race over the decks. With a
great cracking sound, one of the stay sails split in two and then
tore away; the fore and main topsails ripped away, flapped for a
moment in the wind, then hurled themselves into the churning water
to disappear beneath the foamy crests of the sea.

“Lower the upper yards,” Nicholas commanded, hoping
to ease the strain on the masts. The yardarms dipped into the sea
with every roll to leeward. “Douse the spars.”

Men fought the water-washed decks to do the captain’s
bidding. Jago fought to control the wheel.

“Bring down the royals,” Nicholas ordered, while
another wave broke over the decks. When the men had finished, he
ordered the topgallant yards brought down.

By now the troughs were so deep that the ship raced
downhill, then fought to climb up the terrifying wall of water on
the other side. The
Spider
surged and heaved, fighting wind
and water to stay upright. Huge waves exploded across the deck.

“She’s takin’ on water, Cap’n,” Mac informed
Nicholas, shouting to be heard above the roar of the wind, “faster
than the men can pump her out.”

Nicholas followed Mac to check the men working the
pumps. The scene below decks made his blood run cold. Having broken
free of its lashings, the cargo had shifted and smashed against the
hull. Seawater rushed in from a rent in the planking. A team of men
worked feverishly to repair it and pump out the flood.

Nicholas stayed below only a moment, returning to the
deck just in time to see the mizzenmast snap like a twig.

“Look out below!” he shouted, cupping his hands
against the wind. The young sailor who’d disobeyed his orders
stepped away from death just in time. He grinned back at the
captain, and Nicholas felt a wave of relief.

It was short-lived. The
Black Spider
was
doomed. Now Nicholas’s main concern was the safety of his crew.

“Ready the shore boats, Josh.”

“Captain?”

“We’ve no other choice. We’re not far off Hatteras.
Have the men make for shore. It’s their best chance.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Bring the man up from the brig. I’ll see to the
girl.”

Joshua nodded and began to relay the necessary
orders.

In her cabin below decks, Glory clung to the bottom
bunk, praying the ship would stay afloat. Her stomach rolled along
with the ship; she’d thrown up several times already. Only her fear
had kept her from being totally bedridden. A fierce knock at her
door set her heart to pounding. When she lifted the latch and swung
the door wide, she found Cookie standing in the passageway.

“We’re abandoning ship, Miss Glory. The cap’n will be
down fer ye in just a minute. Don’t take more than you can
carry.”

Before she could speak, he was gone. Frantic with
worry, Glory rushed from the cabin. Nathan was locked in the tiny
room below decks. She had to be certain he was safe.

Clutching the lantern from her room in her hand, she
raced down the passageway toward the ladder that led to the aft end
of the hold, and climbed down. When she reached the hold, she made
her way to the tiny brig. The door was open; Nathan was gone.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to make her way back up on
deck. She’d taken only a few hurried steps when she saw the heavy
crate coming at her. Though she tried to sidestep, she couldn’t
duck out of the way in time. Her scream died in the roar of sea
against hull. With a resounding thud, her head hit the bulkhead and
blackness engulfed her.

The last of the men climbed over the rail and into
the waiting shore boats. “You’re
sure
she’s in one of the
boats?” Nicholas asked Mac for the third time.

“Dammit, lad. I wish I could say aye, that I was
certain, but I kinna. Her man wouldna board Jago’s boat till
someone told him she’d already been loaded on another. But I didna
see her. Cookie says he told her we were abandoning the
Spider
. Where else could the lass be?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it. You go on. I’m
going to make another pass through the ship.”

“Time’s runnin’ thin, lad. I’d best come wi’ ye.”

“You just try to keep that boat close enough to the
ship for me to reach it.” The small craft were nearly impossible to
manage in the storm and Nicholas knew it. With the ship taking on
water as fast as she was, listing till the rails were already
touching the sea, he was taking a dangerous chance. But a nagging
voice said something was wrong. He couldn’t see all of the shore
boats, so he couldn’t know for sure if Glory was aboard one of
them— but something told him she wasn’t.

“I’ll do my best, lad.”

Battling the elements and a greater enemy, time,
Nicholas fought his way across the sea-washed decks to the aft
ladder. The passageway stood knee deep in water, but all of the
cabins were empty. He tried to think where she might have gone,
what or who could have been more important to her than her own
safety. And suddenly, sick-eningly, he knew. Frantic with worry, he
made his way down the ladder toward the brig, holding his lantern
high. Several heavy crates had toppled over near the door. As he
pushed a smaller crate away, he noticed the glistening black silk
at his feet.

The voice had been right. Glory lay unconscious
beside the crate. The hull tilted crazily, and the hold was already
half full of water. Kneeling beside her, he set the lantern down
and laid a hand against her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered
open.

“Nicholas . . . What . . . happened?”

“There isn’t time,” he told her. “We’ve got to get
out of here.”

She tried to sit up, but her dress was caught fast
beneath the crate. Nicholas used both hands to rip the fabric away.
Her sleeve was caught as well, so he ripped the buttons down her
back, and she pulled free of the dress. When he helped her to her
feet, she swayed against him.

“This way,” he told her. Ignoring the pounding in her
head, she followed him blindly, clutching his arm, letting him lead
her to the deck. Realization of their terrible predicament hit her
like a second blow.

When they reached the rail, Nicholas heard Glory
gasp, felt her grip tighten on his arm. He glanced at her only
briefly, then looked back out to sea, his worst fears confirmed.
The last small shore boat had drifted yards away from the ship, and
though Mac, Josh, and the men waged a furious battle to bring the
boat back alongside, the task was hopeless. The other shore boats
tossed and rolled even farther out to sea.

“Oh, God, Nicholas. What are we going to do?”

“We’ll have to swim for Mac’s boat. We’ll be sucked
under if we’re near when she goes down.”

Glory blanched. She turned her head slowly from side
to side in denial, her blue eyes, huge with fear, dominating her
pale face. Nicholas paid her no heed, just turned her back to him
and hurriedly split the laces of her corset with the knife he had
strapped to his waist. Wearing just her lacy chemise and thin
cotton petticoat, she clutched him as another massive wave washed
over the deck. Nicholas held on tight to keep her from being swept
overboard.

“Nicholas . . . I’m . . . frightened,” she told him,
wetting her lips, though her whole face glistened with sea
water.

“We have no choice.” He grabbed a piece of line.
“I’ll tie this around your waist so you won’t get too far away from
me. I’ll help you if you tire.”

She just stared at him.

Catching her slight shoulders in an iron-hard grip,
he shook her. “Dammit, Glory, there’s no other way!”

Her voice came out in a whisper that was almost lost
in the wind. “I can’t swim.”

Nicholas groaned. “You can play billiards, but you
can’t swim!”

The taunting words snapped her back to life. “I’m
sorry, Captain Blackwell,” she said defiantly. “I didn’t know we
were going to have to swim for our lives when I came on board.”

Nicholas almost smiled. “All right, we’ll try
something else.” He glanced around the debris-strewn deck. “We’ll
make a raft of these three barrels, then strap ourselves on top.”
He didn’t tell her their control of the raft would be almost nil.
She was frightened enough as it was.

“What can I do to help?”

“Just stay where you are—and hang on. I don’t want
you going over the side until I’m ready.”

He set to work on the barrels, securing them with the
sturdy knots he’d learned from Mac as a boy. Glory clung to the
mast, fighting each new wave, trying not to think about braving the
vicious seas on only a makeshift raft.

It didn’t take long before Nicholas had the barrels
lashed together. “Come on. The longer we wait, the worse our
chances.” He dragged the barrel to the lower rail, which dipped in
and out of the water and Glory climbed on top. Nicholas tied a line
around her waist, tied the end of the line to the raft, and
crisscrossed another section of line back and forth across the
barrels for handholds.

“Whatever you do,” he told her “try not to fall off.
But don’t panic if you do. Remember, you’ll still be tied to the
raft. If the barrels tip over, which I don’t think they will, pull
yourself to the surface and climb up on the other side.”

It all sounded horrible to Glory, who’d never set
foot in anything deeper than a bathtub. She clutched the ropes,
which she knew might mean the difference between life and death,
and said a small prayer for their safety. Nicholas climbed up
beside her, a line around his own waist.

She clung to the ropes with all her might as another
huge wave loomed above the top rail on the opposite side of the
ship. When the water crashed over the deck, Glory screamed, and the
small raft launched itself beneath a churning wall of water. Only
the feel of Nicholas’s strong arm across her shoulder gave her the
courage to hang on.

Glory held her breath till the stale air seared her
lungs, then held it even longer. Praying the end would be painless,
she fought the terrible urge to breathe until the raft popped above
the water like a cork in a barrel. Glory filled her burning lungs
with the heavy, foam-laden air.

Another wave crashed over them, and the ritual
repeated itself, but this time the seconds underwater were
shorter.

Flattened against the barrels, using a length of
splintered wood for a paddle, Nicholas tried his best to maneuver
the raft toward the pitching shore boat, but the craft only seemed
to move farther away.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Glory
offered.

“You just hang on.” He might feel like throttling her
for the fool she’d made of him, but he’d do it after they were
safe. He looked at the bedraggled woman clinging to the raft in her
all but transparent garments. Even neardrowned and terrified, she
looked beautiful. With a fresh surge of worry for her safety,
Nicholas paddled even harder.

“Keep after it, lads,” Mac instructed as the men
fought to row the shore boat in the direction they had last
glimpsed the captain’s makeshift raft.

“Mac.” Josh Pintassle laid a gentle hand on the old
Scot’s arm. “It’s been hours since we’ve seen them. We’ve got no
idea where to look. Neither has he. He’ll be making his way toward
Hatteras. The winds are pushing the seas that way. If they stay
aboard the raft, they’ll have a good chance of making it. We’ve got
to do the same. The men are tiring. We’ve got to make shore if we
can.”

For a moment Mac wanted to argue, wanted to keep up
the search as long as he had an ounce of strength left. He knew
that was what Nicholas would do. But there were others to think of.
The safety of the men had to come first.